How You Feel
by BROEmEaNtToBe
Summary: Lizzie had adored Gordo for most of her life. She has no idea how he feels until one night he gets drunk and the you-know-what hits the fan. LG 1?
1. Walking By

How You Feel by BROEmEaNtToBe  
  
.  
  
And these nights I get high just from breathing  
  
When I lie here with you I'm sure that I'm real   
  
Like that firework over the freeway  
  
I could stay here all day but that's not how you feel  
  
So why do you leave these questions unanswered?  
  
The circus awaits and you're already gone  
  
My chesire cat doorstop with fear in your smile  
  
What makes it so easy for you to be walking by?  
  
What did I do that you can't seem to want me?  
  
And why do we lie here and whisper goodbyes?  
  
Where can I go that your pictures haunt me?  
  
What makes it so easy for you to be walking by?  
  
"Walking By" by Something Corporate  
  
.  
  
I lay in the grass, staring up at the cloudless, starry night sky. The weather was perfect, warm with a gentle breeze. But inside it felt horrible. My heart was bursting with so much emotional pain. The fire warmed my feet, but the rest of my body was warmed by the throbbing pain caused by my tears of grief. Miranda and Gordo lay beside me joking around. Everytime I laughed, tears seemed to accompany the stifled sobs. I continued to stare up at the stars, being properly ignored. Ethan walked up and lead Miranda off into the darkness, leaving me with Gordo. I was trying to stop crying and it was hard and it hurt, so I guess it's not surprising a sob escaped followed by gasping chokes. Gordo was suddenly on alert, on his side, leaning over me.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
I couldn't speak because I was so choked up with emotion and just shook my head. Arms quickly encircled me and I clung to Gordo as if I were drowning. Maybe I was. Drowning in my own misery. After I managed to calm down my hysteria a bit, we lay side by side looking at those glorious stars, Gordo's arm in the nook created between my shoulder blades and the ground by the log we were resting our heads agaisnt. It felt marvelous. I am never happier than when Gordo holds me. I will always remember the feel of those arms. We talked some, but conversations aren't important. His arm remained around me. The fire was creating this mood and I was emotionally exhausted. This combination made me feel like kissing him. I looked at his profile in the firelight. Those deep blue eyes always so full of care. His perfect lips. Oh god, I could kiss him. Maybe he felt them same way or maybe this was making him feel awkward. Or guilty because of his girlfriend. I can never tell how he feels. I wear my bleeding heart on my sleeve and he buries his in his back pocket underneath his practically empty wallet and car keys. Miranda's dad interrupted our moment asking where his daughter was. Gordo said he'd go find her and seemed happy for the distraction as he wandered off. I rolled over to where Gordo once lay and cried for my love for him. It is so painful to carry. He returned saying he couldn't find Miranda and I rolled back over to my half of the log. We lay in comfortable silence. Neither of us feels the need to talk 24/7 so maybe that's why silences were never awkward. 


	2. Konstantine

  
  
And Konstantine is walking down the stairs  
  
Doesn't she look good, standing in her underwear?  
  
And I was thinking, what I was thinkin  
  
But we've been drinking and it doesn't get us anywhere  
  
My Konstantine came walking down the stairs  
  
And all that I could do is touch her long, blonde hair  
  
And I've been thinkin, it hurts me thinking that these nights  
  
When we were drinking, no they never got us anywhere  
  
No  
  
This is because I can spell confusion with a k   
  
And I can like it  
  
It's to dying in another's arms and why I had to try it  
  
It's to Jimmy Eat World and those nights in my car  
  
When the first star you see may not be a star  
  
I'm not your star  
  
Isn't that what you said?  
  
What you thought this song meant?  
  
Konstantine by Something Corporate  
  
I scraped bacon grease from the four-sided cookie sheet into the garbage can with a metal spatula. It was enough to make me seriously reconsider my love for red meat. Or make me want a bacon cheeseburger real bad. I guess it didn't help that the particular bacon grease had been fermenting for two weeks. That was the last time is had crossed Gordo's mind that washing dishes was a plus.  
  
Why didn't he have his air conditioning on? It was the middle of July and there I was slaving over two-week-old dried on bacon grease in this ungodly got kitchen.   
  
I gave up on the pan and moved on to a stack of plates covered in caked on egg or ketchup. Ah, the life of a college student.  
  
I looked over my shoulder to Gordo's bedroom where he lay sleeping off his drunken stupor. After that night at Miranda's party, I hadn't seen Gordo again. So imagine my surprise when two months later, he knocks on my door, completely shit-faced. Who did he think he was, knocking on my door after the way he treated (or didn't treat) me? But me, being the sucker I am, took pity on him and drove him back to his apartment.   
  
A lovely surprise waited inside. After helping him into his bed and making sure he wasn't lying in any kind of position where he could drown on his own vomit, my attention was immediately drawn to the living, breathing, molding mass of dishes growing on the kitchen counters and table. What was going on? Sure, Gordo wasn't the neatest guy on Earth, most guy weren't. But this was ridiculous, downright unsanitary. So I did the only thing I could think to do. I ran dish water and called his mother.  
  
His mother loved me. I was like the daughter she never had. She was so happy to hear from me.  
  
"Lizzie," she cooed into my ear like I was her favorite pet. "How are you, sweetheart?"  
  
"Fine," I said with a growing smile.  
  
"That's wonderful," she replied and I could tell she meant it. It'd been too long.  
  
"Listen," I said before I could get onto the tangent that was my life, "I was wondering if something has been going on with Gordo. He seemed a bit out of it, last I saw him." No need for her to know her only son drank himself into a coma.   
  
"He didn't tell you?" Of course he didn't tell me. I wouldn't have called if he had told me. I refrained from yelling this. "He and Betta broke up. He only told me a few days ago, but apparently they split a week or two ago. She wasn't really into the relationship and never really considered his feelings."  
  
Why wasn't I as happy to hear this as I thought I would be? Maybe it was because Betta (full name: Elizabeth, go figure) had never really cared about Gordo the way I had. She had hurt him by not loving him as much as he loved her. I really didn't like her for this. Sure, she was nice, friendly, funny. It's no wonder he liked her and asked her out. But I could tell as soon as I met he that she didn't really like him. Whenever they went somewhere she always brought some of her friends and then didn't talk to him. But he was happy just to be with her. He was blinded. For Christ's sake, she wouldn't let him escort her to her school's prom and refused to go to his. Why couldn't he see that their relationship was one-sided? But, then I over analyze my relationships, trying to make sure that they are never one-sided. Which was worse? To throw all your feelings and emotions into a relationship and find out the feeling is not mutual, or being afraid to put too much emotion into the relationship out of fear that they don't feel the same?  
  
"Is he alright?" Mrs. Gordon's question shook me from my thoughts.  
  
"Oh, yes. He just seemed a little distracted. I just thought I'd call and see if you knew. You two are so close. And, look, you did know. I actually have to go. I have a lot of dishes to wash."  
  
"Okay, I love you sweetheart."  
  
"I love you, too," I replied.  
  
After hanging up, I stood in Gordo's bedroom doorway. He looked peaceful in his sleep. I felt like I could get close to him, finally. He was vulnerable in his sleep. Like he couldn't put up a wall to keep me away. Except for the fact that he wasn't conscious, this would've been the perfect time to get to know the man I cared so much for. Oh well. All I could do now was wash his dishes.   
  
I walked back into his kitchen. Where to start? 


	3. Just Missed The Train

Roll over baby  
  
The time has come to make a little bit more room  
  
I've hung around you, it's getting tough  
  
I think I'm gonna break down soon  
  
Well, I remember crying in the park  
  
Suddenly I look up and you are my sky  
  
So go on and sleep darling  
  
Why don't you pretend we were just a dream  
  
It's cool, baby, it doesn't matter anyway  
  
Well, I'm so sorry  
  
Got to the station a little too late  
  
Such a shame, just missed the train....  
  
Just Missed The Train by Kelly Clarkson  
  
Chapter 3  
  
If there was a movie made about my life, I know exactly how it would start. You'd see the backs of some people in lawn chairs looking at a beautiful sunset at the ocean. Then I walk up from behind the camera and look both ways down the beach on which hundreds of people are sitting. After agitatedly looking for a place to sit I throw my arms straight out to the sides and the people disappear. I can finally sit and see the sunset, unobscured.   
  
That's basically my feelings on the human race. I saw this comedian once who summed it up perfectly. "My dad's so racist. But the race he hates the most is the human race." Being forced to spend time with thousands of strangers in large crowds makes me nauseous. People are so stupid. They do stupid things. I think the main reason why I feel this way is that I have issues with trust. I'm not sure why, but I'm always hesitant to believe people, and tend to assume the worst.  
  
This lovely thought was caused by the events following my washing Gordo's dishes. I finally finished. I defeated the monster. After dumping the dishwater and cleaning up a bit, I stood in Gordo's bedroom doorway once more. To my surprise, he sat up.  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."  
  
"Oh, it's okay. I was already awake."  
  
For the first time in our lives, an uncomfortable silence fell over us. It was mainly because I didn't know what to say. Did I just come out and say 'Hey, I know what happened with you and Betta. You're too good for her anyway. Oh, by the way, I love you. Always have'? I was fairly certain that would make things even more awkward so I settled with, "Would you mind telling me what happened that would cause you to feel some kind of need to knock on my door? Completely plastered, no less." Maybe a little harsh. But I'll just pretend I don't know anything.  
  
His response to my inquiry is to grab the phone off his bedside table.   
  
"What are doing?"  
  
He ignores me and begins dialing a number. I snatch the phone out of his hand.  
  
"Gordo! I have a right to know what happened. You haven't talked to me in months and then you knock on my door, of all people's. What happened?" Now that I started this facade of not knowing, I had to hear him say the words. Did he honestly think he could come to me, acting the way he was, and not explain what was going on?  
  
"It was a mistake, obviously. I should have gone to Miranda. At least she wouldn't have played 20 questions," he snapped and snatched the phone angrily out of my hand.  
  
"Who are you calling?" My attempt to keep my feelings from showing was not successful and the question was tinged with hurt.  
  
"Betta. You know, the girl I actually care about."  
  
His words hit me hard, knocking the wind right out of me. He didn't care about me? I couldn't breathe. I thought I was going to pass out. Finally I managed to breathe. I was going to cry. I could feel the tears welling up. It's a well-known fact that anger can shove sadness right out. So that's what I did. I got angry.  
  
"You are such a fucking asshole," I spat vehemently.   
  
My string of curses was enough to make Gordo hit the end button on his phone. "Excuse me?" he said, like he couldn't believe I had just muttered those words. It was kinda hard for me to believe I had just muttered those words.  
  
"You heard me. We have been friends a long time and I've done nothing but support you. When you found out your dad was cheating on your mom, I was there. When they got divorced, I was there. When you totaled your car and ended up in the hospital for a week, I stayed there by your bedside. When you showed up at my door, drunker than your father ever was, I took you home, made sure you were okay, even washed your fucking dishes. What else can I possibly do to earn your respect? You don't care about me? Fine. I fucking hate you. I never want to see you ever again." With that I stormed out of his apartment.   
  
I hoped my monologue made me appear strong, because I felt the exact opposite. As soon as I slammed the door close behind me, I broke. I snapped in half. I leaned against the wall and slid down to floor, sobbing. How could he not care about me? Me. I practically lived his life with him. I knew what happened to him and why he felt the way he did about all those things. How could he throw me to the side like that? As if nothing I ever did mattered. The worst part was that I still loved him. For all the shit he just dragged me through, I still loved him. 


	4. My Happy Ending

Reviews thus far:  
  
I3itterSweet: I'm glad you like it. I hope that the chapters are getting longer and having more dialogue. Thank you so much.  
  
DramaQueen5027: This story is loosely based on events that have occured between me and some guy friends of mine, so I was confused too!  
  
I3itterSweet: Thank you again.   
  
daisy: I'm so glad you are enjoying the story.  
  
MagicalKisses: I'm glad you like this story and I'll try to update quickly and often.  
  
.....................................................................................................................................................  
  
So much for my happy ending  
  
oh oh, oh oh, oh oh...  
  
Let's talk this over  
  
It's not like we're dead  
  
Was it something I did?  
  
Was it something you said?  
  
Don't leave me hanging in a city so dead  
  
Held up so high on such a breakable thread  
  
You were all the things I thought I knew  
  
And I thought we could be  
  
You were everything, everything that I wanted  
  
We were meant to be, supposed to be, but we lost it  
  
And all the memories, so close to me, just fade away  
  
All this time you were pretending  
  
So much for my happy ending  
  
oh oh, oh oh, oh oh...  
  
My Happy Ending By Avril Lavigne  
  
......................................................................................................................................................  
  
How do people develop their self worth? I'm serious. Was there a class I missed somewhere, somehow? If you think about it, it's really odd. A series of events, most of which you have no control over, determine how you feel about yourself and how you react with others. What, exactly, happened in my short life to make me have such a bad self worth? I had a relatively normal childhood with very few traumas. So what gives?  
  
This is what I thought about as I sat leaning against the wall of Gordo's apartment building's hall. Why, oh why did I ever have to fall for Gordo? I just realized that Gordo might, in a desperate attempt to pretend like he remotely appreciates me, try to keep me from leaving. I had to to get out of here. I had to make it to my car. I quickly collected myself and hurried down he hall, staggering a bit because my eyes were puffy from crying and I was beginning to get a headache from extreme emotion. I made it to my car but realized that I was under no condition to drive, seeing as how I couldn't even insert my key into the ignition. I collapsed on my steering wheel, crying. All I could think was 'Why is this happening?'.  
  
I wake up slowly. Everything is cloudy and I feel a slight twinge of pain in my temple, lingering traces of a massive migraine. I was laying on my side. I could feel something soft and squishy against my face. A pillow. I was laying on something soft. I slowly open my eyes and for a second I'm completely lost. Then I slowly realize I'm lying in the very bed where Gordo had stated, none too eloquently, how he no longer cared for me. I rolled over and was surprised to see Gordo sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed. He wore a sheepish grin. How did I get here? How should I react? Should I apologize for exploding or be angry and make him apologize? I did have to decide because at that moment Gordo decided to speak. "Lizzie, I...," he trailed off. I was confused. He smashed my heart into a thousand pieces and the best apology he could come up with was 'Lizzie, I'? I raised my eyebrows, encouraging him to continue. Ha had apparently given up on the English language. Whatever. I didn't have to take this. I threw the covers off and got out of the bed. I began to make my way out of the apartment.   
  
"Lizzie! Wait!" Gordo called after me. I should've seen that coming. I turned around and raised my eyebrows again. "I don't know what to say," is his reply. Oh geez.  
  
"What do you want me to say, Gordo?" I nsap. This has been a very exhausting ordeal.  
  
"I'm sorry," he finally manages to say as if the the owrds hurt him. I roll my eyes and continue to leave. They're always sorry.  
  
"Lizzie, I'm serious. I never meant to hurt you. I would never hurt you purposely. I was just tired and stressed and a little hung over. You see, Betta..." I cut him off right there.  
  
"You and Betta split ways. You know it's for the best. Why can't you just embrace it?"  
  
"I don't know. I miss having someone, I guess. I honestly don't know. She wasn't even a good girlfriend, but..." he trails off. Now I don't know what to say. I stand there awkwardly.   
  
"Look, I do care about you," he continues. "I didn't mean to imply that I didn't. You're the best friend anyone could ever have." I hate the word 'friend' to describe a relationship between a man and a woman. What does 'friends' imply? That they care for each other, but not enough to really give themselves to each other. And a lot of guy-girl friendships are better than the serious relationships. He continues, "Maybe that's why I showed up at your door instead of Miranda's." The horrible, awful events of last night flood into my head. Wait. How did I get back to Gordo's? I distinctly remember leaving. I ask him just that.   
  
He answers me slowly and carefully as if he has to think about what he's saying as not to slip up. "Well, you left. You were pretty mad. I just kind of sat there," he gestured to his bedroom," and let it soak in. We got into a fight, Liz. We've never fought a day in our lives. Not about anything big. I said I didn't care about you and you said you never wanted to see me again. I was in shock. I gave you twenty minutes to get home because I figured you were pissed and needed to get it out of your system. The I called your house. You didn't answer and I didn't want to leave a message. After I called for the umpteenth time, I decided to just head over to your house. I go out to the parking lot and there was your car. I go and look inside and there you are, sleeping on the steering wheel. So, I took you inside. I had to. I felt so bad for snapping at you and you were sleeping in your car." He emphasized the last few words needlessly, I thought.   
  
"Why?" His question caught me off guard. "What do you mean 'why'?"  
  
"Why were you sleeping in your car? You were so steamed I thought you'd be burning rubber down the highway." He was looking at me expectantly. What was I supposed to say? The truth? That I'm in love with him and to hear that he didn't care abotu me shattered my fragile crystal self worth? How could I allow myself to be so vulnerable so soon? I had just been brutally attacked emotionally by the only person I cared about. So I did the only thing I could. I turned and left. 


End file.
